First and foremost, I'd like to apologize to anyone who may have grabbed a waning-seconds-of-Christmas gift idea off last year's list; if said gift resulted in a) your Facebook relationship status suddenly becoming "single," b) your incarceration, or c) tears, I profoundly, deeply don't give a fuck.

That said, boys and girls, it's time for Burson's (On-Time) Holiday Gift Guide 2009®, the long-awaited and much ballyhooed tome that assures those on your list get the gift equivalent of a kick in the jock. Looking to tell your girl it's over? Looking to extend the finger to your boss in gift form? Look no further. Burson's got you covered, both literally and figuratively, and is ready, willing and able to hook you up.

In the intervening year since the inaugural edition of this guide, you may have noticed that everything's kinda gone to shit. Nowadays, you can barely scrape together the two bucks for your dinner of cat food and Olde English, let alone buy gifts . . . what's a boy to do? Considering that everyone's pretty much in the same boat (i.e. "fucked"), the trick is to go practical. A box of Hefty garbage bags should fit the bill; considering that many of your recipients are half a step from homelessness, they'll be well-prepared thanks to you!

Speaking of hard times, in an economic climate such as this one, a less scrupulous individual might be inclined to hit a lick or two. For the stickup kid on your list, I submit for your consideration the Glock 17, a fine handgun guaranteed to make the Plaid Pantry clerk shit him/herself, particularly if equipped with a suppressor, or "silencer," as the kids are calling it these days.

It wouldn't be Christmas if Burson wasn't lamenting the sorry-ass state of his beloved Oakland Raiders. Now he and other Raiders fans can effectively hide from the world with the Raiders Fan Face, an ingenious device that simultaneously displays the ashamed fan's team spirit and obscures his identity from bosses, spouses and parole officers. Though I'm certain that Raiders fans are no strangers to masks (see Glock 17 and suppressor, above), the Fan Face is a true multitasker; a wearer can hit the aforementioned lick and still make it in time for kickoff.

If said Raiders fans want to get that "in-game" experience, they could always check out the Official Raiders Tackle Buddy, which is nearly as easy to tackle as an Oakland receiver. Note that the Tackle Buddy has no hands; also reminiscent of a Raiders wideout.

For those of us on a budget this holiday season, Christmas dinner can be something of a challenge. Nothing takes the spirit out of the season quite like bringing home a family five-pack of WinCo pre-smoked "turkey" legs and some off-brand Jell-O for dessert. Never fear, the good folks at McDonalds have it on lock: McRib is back! Just imagine the bucolic scene when you dash in (through the snow) carrying that festive paper sack of low-grade pig parts slathered in corn syrup . . . okay, stop imagining, you're making everyone sick.

For that special lady in your life (or Savage), try a sequined G-String, complete with garters. Why, you ask, would one purchase such a ludicrously impractical garment during one of the coldest times of year? Why, I ask, would you be asking that, instead of thinking about that special lady filling it out? Seriously, though, I see how those sequins could irritate some of the more sensitive areas that may contact them, so you might want to consider something more plush.

Who hasn't said, presumably after a half-rack of Natural Ice, "wow, I wish I could smell like a country music superstar?" Tim McGraw has just the thing for you, "McGraw" by Tim McGraw cologne. While the description may say some shit about "musky," "woodsy" and "masculine," you can be safe in reading this as "smells like horse rectum." If you're a lady (since you're reading wyvern920.com, you're probably not) looking to outfit her guy with that signature scent, look somewhere else. Unless you want your man whiffing faintly of '83 Firebird transmission fluid and tobacco spit, steer clear.

If you're shopping for a particularly angst-y teenage girl or homosexual gentleman, Jewel's A Night Without Armor may be just what you need. While ordinarily a "night without armor" results in pregnancy, HIV or worse, Jewel leans toward a different interpretation in this abortion of a poetry collection. Will someone save her soul? Fuck if I know, I'm too busy hanging my head in shame for this gift even entering my twisted brain.

Finally, I must express both my joy and sadness at penning this guide. On the one hand, Christmas is a time of reassurance, hope and togetherness; a time when we set aside our troubles and come together. However, the fact that we need gift guides at all speaks to something of a hole in our culture, a deep longing we seek to fill with impossibly grand material goods. With each gift, we try to prove to the recipient how well we know them, how much we love them and how much better we are than them for coming up with aforementioned perfect gift. We tear through the malls like Sherman cutting a path to the sea, clawing over the prone figures of less-devoted shoppers, all to find that ab-so-fucking-lutely perfect gift. It'll make the emptiness go away, right? Ah, fuck it, just stock up on some Kingsford, wrap that shit up, and your gift shopping's complete. Plenty of time to go back to bed, curled up with a bottle of bourbon.

Ah, I'm just pulling your collective leg with that last one (except the bourbon - that's a frickin' fantastic gift). In truth, this is one of my favorite times of year, and I wish you all the best. I hope you all have a wonderful Holiday Season, and whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, or Friday, I wish you and yours the best. Muthafuckas.

Burson . . . out.